


Don't Be Misunderstood

by mortaltemples



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Snapchat, F/M, Female Friendships, Post-Trespasser, racinian tragedy. because i'm a goddamn joke., snapchat au, yes they have snapchat. it's a metaphor.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 00:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5313758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortaltemples/pseuds/mortaltemples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anwyn Lavellan has been snapchatting Solas. Josie disapproves.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“It’s not what you think -” She began. Josie shot her a look. “Okay. So it’s almost what you think. I send him photos, everyday. Not of anything important, though!” She clarified quickly. “No locations, no names - nothing. Just silly things.”</p>
<p>“Like what?”</p>
<p>Anwyn smirked. “There was...last month, there was an old man in Minrathous, asleep in a doorway…”</p>
<p>“Oh, well…”</p>
<p>“I captioned it ‘thinking of you’”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Be Misunderstood

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. The theatre quote is from Racine's Bérénice.
> 
> Look. Snapchat is the *ideal* social media platform for these two, and I have legit reasons why, I promise. They boil down to memory, distorted images of your present life and the fleetingness of existence. I can explain more, just hmu on tumblr (kyriakuses).
> 
> Partly inspired by this post: http://kyriakuses.tumblr.com/post/128945770310

Josie unbuttoned the side of her skirt and collapsed on the bed. The day hadn’t just been long, it had almost been torturous. She had attempted to wrangle Lady Helène into providing her Summer cottage to Anwyn’s new...organisation, whatever it was. It had not gone well. The Orlesian had refused to help _‘The Abomination’s lover’_. Anwyn had not helped matters when she attempted to clarify the particulars of the situation. _‘An abomination is very different, you ignor-’_

Yes. It had been a _long day_. Nevertheless, accommodation had been provided at Helène’s expense, after she made it explicitly clear they were never to step foot on her land again. How Orlesian.

“You didn’t have to interfere.” Josie said to her friend, who was sprawled out on the bed, reading a book grabbed from the shelf, feet in the air. 

“Yes, I did. She disparaged my character, Josie, I couldn’t have that.” Anwyn retorted, looking as ever the very picture of innocence.

“She upset you.” Josie said carefully.

“Of course she did.” Anwyn retorted testily. She flipped the page of her book with considerably more violence than Josie expected was necessary.

“I don’t understand you, Anwyn.” Josie sighed. Anwyn looked up from her book and let it flop down on the bed next to her.

“What’s that bookshelf made of, Josie?” She asked. Josie’s eyebrow furrowed.

“...Wood?”

Anwyn smiled and stood up. Josie couldn’t help but notice the lack of warmth in her smile. 

“It’s ironbark. You can tell by looking at the deep grooves the polish settles in.” She said. “Ironbark, most likely taken from the Brecilian Forest by a human woodsman - probably Ferelden. It would then have been sold at a market, to a human, transported all the way to Val Royaux, by humans, until, finally, Lady Helène made a pretty bookcase out of it.” Anwyn stroked the bookcase gently. “The Dalish use ironbark to create armour, weapons, aravels. It’s...it’s literally our bricks and mortar. To see it used here, in Orlais....” She shook her head. “There are days when I think that Solas might be right.”

Josie sat up, shocked. “I never knew you felt that way.”

“How could I not? Leliana told me before the Exalted Council that when she looks at the opulence of Orlais, all she sees are the servants who get up before dawn to polish the garish gold statues. How could I ever give any less of myself?” 

Josie stood and opened her arms for her friend. _Ah, there’s the warmth_. That was all she could think as Anwyn stepped into her arms for a hug.

The warmth and the fire and the intensity - all the sheer brilliance that makes up her friend. 

“Caring is exhausting.” Anwyn pouted. Josie laughed gently at her. Brow furrowed on an elven face without vallaslin, she looked so young, like a child, albeit one with the literal weight of the world on her shoulders.

“Sometimes,” Josie began “caring feels impossible. And you do it everyday. It’s extraordinary.” She grasped Anwyn by the shoulders and looked directly into her blue eyes. “Please - Anwyn, don’t ever stop. Not for a second.” Anwyn smiled and looked down at the floor.

“Please don’t judge me, Josephine.” She said as her hand went to her pocket. “Please just....I’m going to show you something, and I need you to remember everything you just said about caring, and never stopping. And all the wonderful, beautiful things you think about me. _Please_.” Josie raised her eyebrows and sat back down.

“Let me guess - I’ll want to be sat down for this?” She said. Anwyn nodded sheepishly. She typed in the code for her phone and handed it to Josie.

The app was open - page after page of photos, all sent to one recipient. 

“Wow.” Josie said. “Wow, you...you really weren’t kidding, were you?” Anwyn knelt down next to her. 

“It’s not what you think -” She began. Josie shot her a look. “Okay. So it’s almost what you think. I send him photos, everyday. Not of anything important, though!” She clarified quickly. “No locations, no names - nothing. Just silly things.”

“Like what?”

Anwyn smirked. “There was...last month, there was an old man in Minrathous, asleep in a doorway…”

“Oh, well…”

“I captioned it ‘thinking of you’” She laughed. Josie closed her eyes at her friend. Anwyn sat down next to her on the sofa, taking Josie’s hand in hers. 

“Please tell me you don’t send him pictures of yourself, darling.” Josie said, bracing herself for the worst. Again, all Anwyn could do was sheepishly nod her head.

“They’re the ones he screenshots.” Josie exited the app, opened the photo album - sure enough, there were pictures of Anwyn. Her eyes peeking over a book, the coloured paint on her fingernails, her hair in the mirror - braided down her back. Never her whole face, though. “I can never decide whether that part of it is tragic, or just pathetic.”

“What it is, Anwyn, is dangerous. He’s not your sad lover - he is trying to destroy the world, in case you forgot.” Josie reminded her. All Anwyn could do was pull away. 

Josie could remember a conversation with Dorian about this very habit of hers - balking and running at the slightest attempt at interference in her life. He thought it was a perfectly acceptable defense mechanism, and maybe it was. But in this moment, it just seemed unworthy of her, a childish response to being called out for reckless behaviour.

“Why can’t he be both? You act as though I were not very much aware of my duty. Careful, Madame Montilyet - you are starting to sound like Vivienne.” Anwyn said, her best Inquisitor face on, as though that could fool Josie for even a second.

“So Vivienne knows?” She deduced. Anwyn blinked, and paused, before she nodded. 

“She figured it out herself, I never told her.” She admitted. Josie raised her eyebrows.

“And what does she think?”

Anwyn sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. _She doesn’t colour it anymore_ , Josie thought. Comparing the soft ashen blonde to the vibrant, deep red it used to be. She could not quite remember when it changed, if there had been a specific day. They all changed so quickly and so often, it could well have been a gradual process that simply blended in with all the others.

“That I’m a weak, foolish girl in love with a madman and a narcissist.” She replied lightly. “I’m a lot of things, I can be callous and manipulative, and I might well be a foolish girl in love. It might all be for nothing. But I don’t think I’m weak for trying. I think this is the bravest thing I’ve ever had to do.” She said.

Josie looked at her friend softly, and saw all the conviction she held there. Over the course of their friendship, there had been few times where Josie was as intensely aware of Anwyn’s power - people had died in her name, she was a beacon of hope and compassion and order in a terrifying world. One who believed ardently that her head and heart could work in tandem. 

_And yet._

And yet she remembered the woman terrified in Haven, begging Josie to teach her how to bow correctly, asking Cullen about chess strategies, convinced that it would help her understand warfare and mooning over Leliana and her fame. This has always been in her, Josie understood. 

“ _Je l’aime, je le fuis. Titus m’aime, il me quitte._ ” She recited. Anwyn looked confused. “I haven’t dragged you along to that one yet.” Josie told her wryly. “It’s Orlesian - about rulers torn between love and duty.” Anwyn nodded.

“Let me guess - they don’t get to run off somewhere sunny at the end of it?” She said, her voice cracking slightly. Josie grasped her hand and kissed it affectionately.

“Your life doesn’t have to be a tragedy.” She said quietly. “You can walk away.” Anwyn laughed.

“You know me better than that, Josie - I’d get bored within a month.” She stood up, smoothed out her tunic. “An Orlesian tragedy? I can work with that.”

“Anwyn, if anyone outside of, well, _us_ finds out about this…” She warned. Josie hated it, she hated the whole situation. Anwyn had always been terrifyingly clever - quick and resourceful, more than anything. Josie could remember, one cold evening in Skyhold, Anwyn quietly telling her how, before the Breach, her magic had been minimal. _‘Had I been in a Shem circle,’_ she had said, scarcely louder than a whisper _‘I would have been made tranquil years ago. Or, well. I would have jumped out a window to my death, I suppose.’_ All Josie could do that night was hold her close. Just like all she felt she could do now was patronise her friend.

“I know.” Anwyn replied curtly. “It won’t change his mind. Not on its own. But it helps. I can’t tell you how but I’m so much closer to what I’m looking for.” The gleam in her eye was back as she finally stood and walked across the room.

“And what are you looking for?” Josie asked. Anwyn smiled wryly as she tapped the bookcase. 

_Ironbark_ , Josie remembered.

“Catharsis.” She said quietly. “Help me smash it.” Josie’s eyes widened. 

“No, wait, what?”

“Let’s destroy it. Snap this picture to him.” Anwyn said, reaching for her staff by the bed. 

“Anwyn! Helène will kill us!” Josie said, grasping the other woman by the wrist. Anwyn smiled softly and took Josie’s hand from her wrist. 

“I’m right. I’m right about the world, I’m right about Solas and I’m right about this bookcase.” She said firmly. Josie sat down, acquiescing. 

“It’s not like I can stop you.” She admitted, finally smiling at her friend.

“Exactly.” Anwyn replied, and let loose a brief burst of magic. It was green, and, as ever, felt to Josie as though the world was being sharply _tugged_ , propelling the light forward and smashing into the bookcase - shattering it to pieces, forming a messy pile of ironbark on Lady Helène’s beautifully ornate rug.

Anwyn was quiet after that, tilting her head and advancing slowly towards the shards of the bookcase. She placed her staff next to her and picked up a particularly large shard, turning it over to look at it properly.

“I have to be right, and I have to do everything I possibly can to change his mind, Josie. This is possible, this is everything.” She said, quietly, before throwing the shard of ironbark back onto the pile. She took a picture, just of the pile. Josie had to admit, there would be very little way of telling where they were, at least for her. She did not doubt for a second that Solas would narrow down the possibilities in a moment. Which brought her to another conclusion - Solas didn’t want to find them. To track down Anwyn would mean having to stand in front of her and face up to what he was doing, possibly even forcing them into a confrontation. She doubted that one could kill the other, which, for Solas, would just be the end - if he could not kill the one person with the potential to oppose him, then that means that there might be something more important to him than whatever his plan actually was. In that moment, it seemed obvious to Josephine what Anwyn was doing, and how clever she was being. 

“You’re torturing him.” Josie said. Anwyn laughed.

“Never. Taunting, maybe. He haunts my dreams, it’s only fair I return the favour. Solas knows perfectly well that he can come home whenever he wants.” She clarified. “Still.” She said.

Josie laughed. 

“Still.”


End file.
